


in stasis

by mintakas



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hand Jobs, Injured Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Rumbling, Smut, Trauma, Working My Feelings Through Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:34:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23685493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintakas/pseuds/mintakas
Summary: "Eren holds him down, wordlessly, as humanity’s strongest writhes. Ties his wrists and ankles to keep him still, and resets his leg with one, swift movement. Levi screams, calls Eren everything he can manage in one breath, and passes out."Eren never meant to hurt his friends.Least of all Levi.
Relationships: Levi/Eren Yeager
Comments: 12
Kudos: 238





	in stasis

**Author's Note:**

> this work is kinda post chapters 125-28 i guess? honestly i don't really remember at this point they all make me miserable and just blur into one. luckily i live for angst lmao
> 
> anyways this is a brief account of what occurs following the worse case scenario i.e no one manages to stop eren and there's a full scale rumbling. tbh this is just me working out my feelings, and there are a lot 
> 
> (also quarantine has left me with nothing else to do except finish this fic so. here we go)
> 
> let me know what you think & enjoy!!! <3

Eren’s on his knees, hands dithering uselessly over the body of a man. There were a lot of bodies, littered around, and amongst them, those he probably knew – but this one he could spot from a mile off. The sound of the city becomes white noise, the fire and chaos melting away into static. For the first time in a long time, he’s crying. 

“I didn’t mean – this isn’t what I wanted,” he tells no one. No one’s listening, everyone is either dead or wishes they were. Most of the people here have been crushed, their bodies mangled and making them pretty much unidentifiable. But this one, this one he knows. This one is lucky enough to be intact, his special blood keeping him breathing, for now. But when he wakes up, he might wish he hadn’t. The thought makes Eren’s stomach turn, and he leans away to vomit on the ground. 

He wipes at his mouth, then wipes his hand on his thigh, bits of vomit making almost no difference to the state of his lower half, still bloody and steaming a little. His legs have mostly healed, already – Jean had launched a thunder spear at him that had pierced his knees side on, spearing them both. It was a fantastic shot and Eren wished it had hurt more. Wanted to feel something other than this pain, this _guilt._

Someone has already been by here, checking for survivors. Must have thought this one was dead; they’ve draped his cloak over his face, the wings of freedom sneering at Eren, saturated with blood. There’s a chunk out of his left shoulder, and several fingers missing from his hand. His leg is twisted the wrong way. When Eren peels away the cloak, he thinks he might throw up again. 

“Levi,” he chokes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

He’s all bloody. His face is torn, with what look like old and new wounds, and he’d been crying – tear tracks over his cheeks making the blood all pink and patchy. 

Eren tells him he’s sorry, over and over, as he wraps his body in his cloak. Gently lifts him up, tries to move him as softly as he can. 

Eren doesn’t even look back as he carries Levi away. 

Doesn’t look at the bodies, or the rubble. 

Doesn’t even breathe as he navigates the wreckage, wading through what is left. 

*

It’s been almost a week since the rumbling. Eren has them holed up in the nearest shelter he could find that was still close enough to water. It was mostly intact; he’d had to work for almost a day making reparations so that it was sound enough for them to stay inside. His hands had split and bled and healed over and over again as he went, working and gathering anything he could, anything he might need to try and keep Levi alive. There was some hay in the shack that they could use to sleep on, and that was enough. 

He’d managed to find materials under the wreckage that he could keep Levi warm with. Swaddled him in his cloak and random pieces of cloth, made a sled that he could pull his body on, pulled him for five hours before he found the stream, the shack just a little ways past it. The first thing Eren does is clean Levi’s wounds. 

The first time Levi wakes up, two days after the rumbling, Eren has to reset his leg.

“You FUCKER!” is the first thing Levi says. He lurches, still disoriented, and makes a wild grab for Eren before collapsing, screams of pain piercing Eren harder than Jean’s thunder spears. 

Eren holds him down, wordlessly, as humanity’s strongest writhes. Ties his wrists and ankles to keep him still, and resets his leg with one, swift movement. Levi screams, calls Eren everything he can manage in one breath, and passes out. 

Eren covers his wounds with sage. Manages to find some growing some ways past the stream, remembers Hanji saying something once about it having medicinal properties. Plugs the chunk in his shoulder as best he can, crushes the stuff to a paste and coats his face with it, hopes it might help. He has nothing to sew him together with, so instead he rips apart Levi’s cravat so that he can bandage his face. 

Levi, for the most part, is pretty still. He’s out cold and Eren is thankful. He has to remove his clothes, wash them as best he can, and bind Levi’s chest with his shirt by ripping the hem and tying it as tight as possible. There’s a soft dip at his left side, amid a horribly yellowing bruise, and Eren had suspected broken ribs. 

It’s a sight he can’t get used to. The captain, fragile, broken bones, crying in his sleep. Eren, the only thing keeping him alive. The world, on it’s side and in ruins, crushed under the gigantic feet of his Titans. 

Food is difficult to come by. Everything has been destroyed so there’s nothing to kill. He knows, eventually, he’ll likely starve, but for now he survives on whatever he can find. Wonders if he’ll go crazy enough to start eating the bodies of his friends, and the vulgarity of the thought makes his skin crawl.

He makes broth. Leaves most of it for when Levi wakes up. Hopes the soldier will be able to set his hatred aside long enough to eat.

On day five, Levi wakes again. Eren’s asleep, but his cries of pain have him holding down the captain’s wrists in no time. 

“Don’t move, Levi,” Eren tells him, groggy with sleep. Levi is white, sweat dripping down his face. His lips are cracked, his face swollen with ugly, bloody bruises, and even in this sorry state, Eren can feel the repulsion in the way he looks at him. 

He wants to yell at him, Eren can tell. Wants to tell him he should be burning in hell for what he’s done. But his teeth are grinding together in pain, and he watches as Eren wordlessly soaks a cloth in a bucket of water, before pressing it lightly over Levi’s forehead. His chest heaves, and with every breath, Eren can see the pain written across the lines on his face.

“You need to calm down,” says Eren, lifting Levi’s sheet to check the bindings. They are sodden with his sweat, and Levi hisses at him as he lightly places his fingers against the material.

“I know it hurts, I know. I’m going to take care of it. I’m taking care of you.” 

He knows he can’t remove the binding. If he does, it might be agony for Levi. And so he bathes the cloth again, rinsing it before soaking the material wrapped tightly around his torso. 

He does this for several minutes, aware of Levi watching him, knows that he’s gathering the strength to say something. Prepares himself for the oncoming slaughter, but finds himself surprised at what he says when he finally does speak.

“You should h-have left me… to d-die,” he manages, and Eren sighs, soaking the cloth again. “Why w-would you keep m-me alive… in this hell?” he spits. “This h-hell that y-you created.” 

Eren leans back on his heels, rinses the cloth. Gets to his feet and heads outside, cloth and bucket in tow. 

He can hear Levi inside as he empties the bucket, refilling it with fresh water, and soaking the cloth in the stream. The soldier is in agony, and Eren hates himself for what he’s about to do. 

“I need to dress your wounds again,” he tells him, kicking the door shut with his boot. 

Eren already has some dressing prepared, and Levi recoils as he reaches out to remove the makeshift bandages from his face.

“It’s going to hurt, I know –,”

“ – of course it f-f-fucking is, you _asshole_. Still in b-better shape than everyone else, though, aren’t I?” 

Eren says nothing, just fixes him with this stoic look, and Levi sighs. Knows there’s nothing he can do. Eren curls a hand around the back of Levi’s head, lifts him gently so he can unwrap the bandages. 

He then uses the cloth to wipe away the old sage, and the second he touches him, Levi cries. 

Or, sort of. For the most part it’s this stifled whine, his face screwing up, all contorted, and Eren stops.

“The more you move the more it will hurt. I need you to stay still –,”

“Go ffffuck yourself, E-Eren. You ffucking m-monster.” 

He doesn’t let up though, keeps cleaning, endures Levi’s anger as he goes. The wounds are these great slices in his face, some have already been stitched up, though some have reopened. Eren can’t be sure how they got there, or who seems to have taken care of him, but he’s grateful that somebody did. 

Eren isn’t sure when he started doing it, but he’s cooing at him. Telling him “ _ssshhh_ ,” as he goes, and even though Levi looks at him as though he’s picturing killing him over and over again, he is mostly quiet, ever the soldier. 

Eventually, the wounds are coated, and Eren has reapplied the cravat-come-bandages. Levi is so exhausted that he’s out like a light as soon as Eren is finished, and Eren just watches him, helpless. 

He’s moving on auto-pilot. Exists now only to keep Levi alive. Eats so that he can stay strong, sleeps so that he can keep his energy, to look after the captain. Everything is in ruins, and the only thing circling his brain like a horrible fever dream is the faces of his friends – Mikasa, Armin, Connie – their screams – 

And like a flightless bird, he is falling once again, lost to this gruesome nightmare, the likes of which he can never escape. 

The architect of his own purgatory. 

*

Day seven. Eren is shaken awake some early hours of the morning by the sound of this horrible, bloodcurdling scream that travels the length of his spine and has him tripping over his own feet. The soldier is clutching his side, the veins in his neck pulsating as though they were moving to the rhythm of some silent, deadly drum. 

Eren knows there’s absolutely nothing he can do to ease his pain, and grabs his wrists again, orders him to stay still. 

“Don’t move, Levi. Your ribs are broken.” 

He holds him through the worst of it, tries and fails to resist as Levi curls a trembling hand around his neck, yanks him down to his level. He snarls at him through bared teeth, and Eren blinks back tears.

“Why?” he demands, fingers tugging violently on the hair at the back of Eren’s head. It’s makes his skin crawl; wishes to be touched by Levi under any other circumstance. “Why couldn’t you just leave me?”

He’s all sweaty, and Eren’s forehead slips against his. Without thinking, he lets his head rest against the captain’s shoulder. He can’t tell if Levi is crying, but the grip on the back of his neck gets tighter with every convulsion. 

Seconds pass and Eren mulls it over, shakes his head against Levi’s shoulder. There’s _something_ teetering at the tip of his tongue, a thought that he hasn’t even fully fleshed out, something unfinished, and he hesitates, swallows it back down with everything else he wants to say. 

“I couldn’t leave you there.”

“You’re the reason I was there in the first place.” His tone is lethal, and suddenly Eren is back on the field, and Levi, the deadly commanding officer he never wanted to disappoint. 

“There’s nothing I can say that will make you hate me any less, Captain.”

Levi makes this noise, this bitter, sarcastic laugh that cuts through Eren like a knife. Pushes him away in disgust. Eren let’s the force of it knock him back, repositions himself to sit with his elbows on his knees. Stares up at at Levi where he lay on the hay bale.

“Captain,” he repeats, the resentment rolling from his tongue like venom. “I’m not your fucking Captain anymore. You made damn well sure of that.”

Seconds pass and Eren just sits there, fingers the grooves in the wooden slats beneath him. Wants to let Levi expel as much as he can, because it’s only fair, because he deserves it. Minutes pass, however, and Eren isn’t naïve enough to think that his anger has subsided – but Levi is calmer, breathing more steadily now. 

When he does address Eren again, he’s quieter, more composed, but his voice has this edge of sadness that Eren finds unsettling.

“You should have left me there,” he pauses, clenches his bandaged hand against his chest. “I _have_ to kill you, Eren.” There’s this undeniable tremor in his voice when he says this, and Eren can tell that this time, it’s not pain. Not the physical kind, anyhow. 

Eren sighs, feels this odd sensation wash over him, something he belatedly diagnoses as relief. 

Levi blinks, regards him with this stoic expression. “But you already knew that.” 

He realises that… yes, he did know that. The thought had been lurking somewhere at the back of his mind, had reared it’s ugly head when Eren found Levi lying motionless on the ground, had surfaced once again the first time the soldier had woken up. Isn’t sure now if it’s in part why he had thought to rescue him in the first place. Thinks perhaps there might even be something poetic in it, this tragic end – that it’s only right he die by Levi’s hand. Knows that deep down, Levi would agree with him. 

“It’s only fair, don’t you think?” Eren says, tucking a loose tendril of hair behind his ear. “It’s the only way to end this. I was lost, but I see that now. I only have a few years left, anyway, but it wouldn’t be right.” 

Levi – he’s crying now, Eren can see the tears slipping down his cheeks. His expression hasn’t changed, though, and he’s not looking at him anymore.

“What, you think you deserve some meaningful end? Do you think there’s some sort of beautiful symmetry to all this? Is that why you murdered all our friends?” He’s not looking for an answer, Eren knows. Levi’s hand clenches and unclenches against his chest, and Eren notes, unhelpfully, that it almost looks like the salute. 

“What a fucking mess you’ve made, Eren.”

Eren nods at the floor, sucks in a breath. 

“I know.” 

“You couldn’t – why couldn’t you just let us handle it –,”

“I did what I did to save us. I know you can’t understand.”

“No, I’ll never understand fucking _genocide_.”

For some reason he’s lacking the same venom from before. His words feel empty, like there was almost nothing left to say, and maybe there isn’t. Maybe there’s nothing left, and all they have is each other and this tiny shack, so infinitely small amongst the all the debris. 

“I thought I was doing the right thing. I’m sorry I let you down.” 

“You – you idiot. You fucking idiot.” 

Levi turns his head to the side, away from Eren, and all Eren can think to do is to shift until he’s got his back against the bale of hay, then lifts his arm until his hand is laying open palmed against Levi’s chest. The soldier says nothing, simply sighs, before using his good hand to lace their fingers together. 

Because, Eren thinks – right or wrong – all they have is left is each other. 

*

Two weeks in and Levi seems to be on the mend. He wakes more often and moves a little more easily, eats whenever Eren makes food. Eren knows that anyone else in his position would have been a goner, and so knows that most of his healing is owed to his special genes. Still takes pride in taking care of him, nonetheless. 

At this point, it’s pretty obvious that Levi means to carry through with his promise. As soon as he’s well enough, he’s going to kill Eren, and Eren finds this oddly soothing. 

But soon enough comes the realisation that once he’s dead, Levi will be alone. The thought occurs one evening as Eren is stirring the pot above the fire for their dinner, and makes him feel so unwell that he has to run to the stream to empty his stomach.

When he’s back inside, he pokes Levi awake. 

“Levi. Levi, wake up.”

The soldier turns, groggy, looks at Eren through half lidded eyes.

“What do you want?”

“When you kill me, you’ll be all alone.”

Levi huffs, blows the hair from his eyes. “And?”

“Well that’s – that’s awful. I can’t imagine anything worse than being stuck here all alone. I’m not saying this so that you won’t kill me, but I think we should have a contingency plan. For in case you lose your mind.” 

“Eren – what makes you think I plan to go on living in this shit hole?” 

Eren is caught like a deer in headlights, eyes wide on Levi as he blinks. “I hadn’t – I hadn’t considered that.” 

“No, evidently not. Now fuck off so I can go to sleep.”

*

They’ve been holed up for a month now. Levi is still in pain, most days, but the good news is that the wounds on his face have mostly healed. He doesn’t need to cover them in sage anymore, and the bandages have come off. Eren remembers asking Levi about the old wounds, one evening, curiosity getting the better of him even though he knows he’s probably not prepared for the answer. 

“When I found you, you had some injuries on your face that were old. They’d been stitched up.” 

“Mm, your brother blew me up.” He’s sipping the broth that Eren has made (grimaces every time) and Eren has to put down his bowl. 

“Blew you up?”

“Yes, he blew us both up. My own fault. I underestimated how willing he was to die. Hanji found me.”

Levi offers nothing more on the matter, but Eren goes to sleep that night with the thought of Levi, helpless, just like he was the day that Eren found him. Because of Zeke, because of him. The Jaeger family – undoubtedly the worst thing to have happened to humanity’s strongest. (To the world, for that matter).

*

Eren’s made up his mind. He sets out early, before Levi has woken up. Leaves him enough food for breakfast, lunch and dinner (a watery soup and some fish that he’d caught in the stream) just in case he wasn’t back before sundown. Levi would probably think he’s just gone looking for supplies, anyway. 

He needed to find Hanji. Or Armin, or Mikasa – anyone who was still alive. The chances are slim, but he doesn’t care. 

He’s honestly not sure if he’s lost his mind. As if anyone who was still alive would give him the time of day, as if they wouldn’t try and kill him where he stands. If the worst should happen, he still has his Titan. He still has all the Titans, actually (not that he needs them, or could even bear to use them anymore) and right now, the only thing driving him forward, is his contingency plan. 

Levi’s contingency plan.

He knows Levi says he has no intention of living – but Eren shoulders the thought, treads heavily on, not entirely sure why. 

He walks for three hours before he comes across any semblance of life. Luckily, it is mid spring, and so the sun doesn’t burn too hot, and Eren is able to trudge onward without needing to break too often.

There is evidence of a fire; some twigs and branches gathered into a pile that has not long since died out. He remembers the day he’d found Levi – there had been someone checking for survivors, so clearly they weren’t the only ones (un)lucky enough to have made it. 

Eren tiptoes around the glowing embers, careful not to alert anyone nearby, wants the element of surprise on his side. A few feet away, there lies a flare, a water canister, and an entire set of 3D manoeuvre gear. Eren approaches carefully, nudges the water canister with his boot. Half full.

He knows no one in their right mind would just leave their belongings, (even if on inspection the manoeuvre gear was completely out of gas), and so whoever it was must be nearby. There’s nothing around except the remnants of houses, some trees, and, Eren realises as he draws nearer, light footprints leading from the fire down a steep hill. 

He follows the footprints down the hill towards a river, surmises from the size of the prints that they must belong to a woman. Knows the chances of it being Hanji are next to nothing but hopes anyway. Eren carefully makes his way down the hill, trying not to slip and fall, heart hammering away at his ribcage and making him feel dizzy with anxiety. _Please, please be Hanji…_

The next thing he sees has him sliding the rest of the way down the hill, and landing with a heavy thud on his knees. 

Hanji’s lying on the riverbank, face down in the watery mud at the river’s edge. 

She’s starfished, arms and legs splayed out the exact same way that she used to fall asleep (Eren knows because she had once fallen asleep on top of the mess hall table like this, the summer that Eren had accidentally transformed a Titan arm just to catch a spoon. She’d been up all night researching, and the recruits found her like this the following morning, snoring on top of her notes.) 

He cries, but no sound comes out. Just throws his hand to his mouth and sobs, the other clutching at his heart as though it were breaking. As though he _deserved_ to feel sad about this. He’s not sure how long he’s sat there, but by the time he finds the will to move, dusk is setting in heavy, the sky gradually being enveloped by milky hues of orange and pink. 

He turns her over. Gently removes her eyepatch and tucks it into his pocket. Wraps her body in her cloak, brandishes the wings of freedom proudly over her chest. Doesn’t bother telling her he’s sorry. Instead, he stomps his foot into the dirt and salutes her, his nails digging harshly into his sweaty palm as he holds his fist over his heart. 

His broken, messy, undeserving little heart.

*

Eren keeps the eyepatch hidden for a whole week after that. Levi can tell something’s wrong but doesn’t ask many questions. He’s awake most of the time, now, and Eren can’t decide if this is worse than when he slept all day. Now, the silence is voluntary. 

Eren’s boiling water for Levi to have a bath when he finally decides to ask the question. 

“What happened?” is all he says, and he doesn’t need to elaborate any further for Eren to know what he’s talking about. Eren curbs answering until he’s finished boiling the last bucket of water, before emptying it into the huge tin tub that he’d salvaged a week in. 

“Nothing happened. Here, let me help you undress.” 

He’s helping Levi out of his bottoms when Levi decides to pry.

“I’m not a fucking idiot, you know. You’ve been acting weird since you came back that day.” 

Eren slings an arm under Levi, helps him tread to the makeshift bathtub. Levi still hisses, occasionally – his ribs had been the real problem, not healing properly, probably healing wrong – and there was nothing that could be done about it. 

The water is warm, but not so hot that Levi isn’t able to sink straight into it, halfheartedly trying to cover himself as he goes. It’s useless, really – Eren’s seen it all, at this point. 

“It really doesn’t matter, Levi. Just get clean, and then we’ll have something to eat.”

Levi sinks his head into the water, brushes his hair back as he re-emerges.

“Stop trying to deflect. You must think I’m a real fool to be believing that bullshit.” 

“I don’t think that. It’s nothing. It’s really nothing.” 

Levi seems to decide that it’s a battle not worth fighting, for now, and so he continues washing in silence, only speaking again to let Eren know that he’s done. 

Eren helps him out of the tub, dries him off (it’s a little too much bending and moving for Levi to manage alone) and once he’s clothed, Eren helps him to lie back down on the hay bale. 

After they’ve eaten, Levi tries the subject again.

“Did you see someone?”

The question is abrupt, comes from nowhere, and Eren’s hand flies to the eyepatch in his pocket. Fingers the fabric absently. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Just a guess. Obviously right on the money, though.”

Sighing, Eren lies back on his own bale, a few feet or so from Levi’s.

“Please drop it, Levi. I’m not not telling you because I don’t want to. I’m doing it to protect you.”

Levi snorts. “It’s a bit late for that now, isn’t it?” 

Eren huffs, sitting up again. Swings his legs round so he’s facing Levi, sticks his hand into his pocket. Hesitates for a moment, and then pulls the eyepatch free, displaying it in his open palms. 

Levi says nothing, just stares at him. 

“It’s Hanji’s,” Eren finally says, breaking the silence. 

“Yes, I know it’s Hanji’s. What’s your point, Eren?”

“I – I went looking for her. I found her.” 

“Why would you look for her?”

Eren sniffs, wipes his nose with the back of his hand. Isn’t sure Levi is asking the right questions.

“I wanted you to have someone, once I’m gone. I didn’t want you to be alone.”

As though he were tired of explaining himself, Levi grunts, dragging a hand down his face.

“I already told you –,”

“ – Yeah, yeah, I know you did. It doesn’t matter, now, anyway.” His voice gets a little quieter, and he adds, “she’s dead.”

He can hear Levi swallow, and for a second, he wonders if the soldier is going to amble across the room and hit him. 

When he does say something, his voice is restrained. “Of course she is. What did you expect?”

Eren glances up at him, eyes glassy.

“I just thought – I just thought there might be a chance.” 

Levi doesn’t fight it, doesn’t tell him he’s an idiot. Instead heaves this great sigh, which obviously hurts, because he grimaces afterwards. 

“Come here.” 

The words don’t register, at first, Eren’s still just staring at the eye patch, eyelids heavy with unshed tears. “W… What?”

“I said come here. Hurry up before I change my mind.” 

Eren sets the eyepatch down on the makeshift bed, awkwardly closes the distance between his hay bale and Levi’s. 

“Lay down.” 

Eren finds the instruction weird and out of place, but he does it anyway, lays down next to Levi as straight as a statue, leaving a good few inches between their bodies. Levi huffs and turns onto his side, instructs Eren to do the same. 

“Why are we doing this?” asks Eren, feeling infinitely small under Levi’s scrutiny, feels vulnerable this close to his body, like he were some questionable art piece, exhibited for inspection.

“For comfort.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but they don’t do this. This isn’t how they’ve ever done things. “If you don’t want to, you’re more than welcome to fuck off back to your side of the room.” 

Eren’s protesting faster than his mind can process.

“No, no, no – I want to.” 

They stay like that for a long while, laying face to face, with nothing to do but stare at each other. It’s weirdly unsettling, with nowhere else to look, and Eren feels like he’s being laid bare under Levi’s gaze, raw and exposed. 

Eren had thought it might take a while to get used to the new scars, but, looking at him now, he’s more Levi than Eren has ever known him to be.

Somewhere along the line, Levi’s hand comes to lay open palmed against Eren’s bare chest. The contact is unexpected, and it makes him gasp. 

“Is this okay?” 

Eren quickly acclimatises to Levi’s cold skin, melting into his touch a little too obviously.

“It’s fine. It’s more than fine, in fact.” 

He can’t be sure how long they stay like that, Levi feeling the thrum of his heart below his skin, alive, still alive. Still a hundred and eighty pounds of warm flesh and toned muscle, tanned and smooth and quivering beneath his fingertips. 

It would seem that all of a sudden, they become very aware of just _how_ intimate this is. It’s like the realisation strikes them both at the same time, and Eren’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Levi –,”

“ – Eren –,”

“— I never meant for –,”

Levi’s mouth is on Eren’s in an instant, and it takes a good few seconds before his mind can catch up. It’s almost – it’s urgent, Eren decides, the way Levi’s kissing him, as though if he doesn’t do it now they may never get another chance. Which is a ridiculous idea, considering the two of them theoretically could stretch out this infinity as long as they wanted. Or maybe it was that like Eren, Levi had thought about this. Maybe Levi had spent countless night jacking off into his mattress at the thought of Eren, hot and breathless beneath him, wanting, selfish – you didn’t _want_ when you were trying to save humanity, you just survived long enough to fulfil your duty. 

Eren curls his fists into Levi’s hair, drags his hand across the distinctive undercut, relishes the way the bristles tickle and scratch his skin. It’s pretty uncoordinated, and Levi stops, drags his lip from between Eren’s teeth. 

“I just need –,”

“ – Me too.”

It’s all the approval that either of them are looking for, and as Eren reaches an arm around Levi’s back to pull him closer, Levi jolts.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I forgot,”

“It’s okay. But you’re going to need to do most of the work, here.” Levi gestures vaguely between them both, and Eren needs no more encouragement. He shifts until he’s hovering above Levi, elbows either side of his head and legs straddling his thighs. 

“If anything hurts –,”

“You’ll know.”

Eren dips his head to kiss Levi again, licking into his mouth. Levi makes his noise, inhuman, as Eren’s hand slides past the waistband of his trousers, delighted to learn that Levi is evidently as impatient as he is. He’s already leaking, sticky, warm pre cum, and Eren thumbs the slit, enjoys the heat. 

“Mm – God.”

Between the two of them there’s no patience for teasing. Eren can tell by the way Levi bucks his hips into his hand that he needs it _now_ , and shit, is Eren happy to oblige. He smears the beads of precum over Levi’s cock, slicks his hand with it.

Being touched, in any capacity, was something Eren had long forgotten, and he supposes that it had been the same for Levi. So now, trembling and hungry beneath him, Levi flushes red.

“Eren. Please.”

He doesn’t need to explain – Eren strokes his face, thumbs the line of the angry red scar running the length of his jaw. 

“I know, I’ve got you. I’m taking care of you.”

He’s studying Levi’s face as he finally begins working him, fist sliding up and down with ease, and Levi, he looks a picture – the fucking depravity of it all makes Eren’s own cock heavy with arousal, and he barely resists the desire to bear down against Levi’s thigh, seeking pressure, seeking something to take the edge off. 

“Fffuck, Eren…” Levi is keening, his hands grabbing helplessly at Eren, curling around the back of his neck. He yanks him down until their foreheads are pressed together, an echo of just a month before. 

Eren watches him in awe, thinks he might come untouched just from the sight of him, all flushed cheeks and swollen lips. They hadn’t discussed the scars, really – Eren wasn’t sure if it was a sensitive subject for him – but he’s just so fucking beautiful that it doesn’t even matter. Eren proves his point by kissing each one, and Levi looks as though he’s about to cry. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” Eren whispers, mouth finding purchase against Levi’s neck, trailing wet open mouthed kisses all the way down to his sternum, all the way down until eventually he’s able to suck a nipple into his mouth. Wants to taste all of Levi, really, but for now would take whatever he could get. 

It’s all too much, apparently, and Levi’s mouth falls open, fingernails digging helplessly into Eren’s bicep. 

“Oh god, fuck, fuck – Eren, I’m gonna come,” he warns, and Eren responds in kind, pumping him faster still. 

Eren leans back down to catch his mouth, letting him know it’s alright, and that’s it - Levi’s crying out, spilling a hot, sticky mess all over Eren’s hand. Eren is sure to milk him for every drop, gently squeezing the head until the man is sobbing, aftershocks sending jolts of delayed pleasure through out his body. 

They lay there for a few minutes as their breathing returns to normal, and Levi finally looks down at the mess he’d made of his stomach, and Eren’s hand. 

“I – sorry,” he eventually mutters, and Eren laughs, the first time in months (maybe years).

“Don’t be. I enjoyed every second of that.” 

“Well, it’s only polite that I do you, now.”

“Oh, but – Levi, you probably shouldn’t –,”

“I can think of something that requires little effort on my part.” 

Eren raises an eyebrow, intrigued, and Levi instructs him to shed his trousers and underwear, and then to – quite literally – sit on his face. 

“Huh?” is the only response Eren can manage. 

“Let me suck you off. If we do it from this angle I don’t have to move very much, you can just fuck my mouth.” 

The words sound so fucking wrong and debauched coming from Levi that Eren’s cock aches at just the thought. He stares at Levi dumbly, open mouthed and wide eyed. 

“We’re both adults, Eren. Grow up.”

It doesn’t take much more persuasion. 

Seconds later, Eren’s doing exactly that – fucking Levi’s mouth, hands pressed up against the wall for leverage. He throws his head back as Levi hollows out his cheeks and takes him all the way, but Eren is mindful, doesn’t want to hurt him – so tries to pull away when Levi starts to choke. Levi, on the other hand, doesn’t care – he grabs Eren’s ass, thrusting him back in, and Eren whines, hands slipping against the wall. 

“Fuck, that feels so good,” he encourages, not that Levi needs it – he’s working Eren so well, and Eren can feel the heat twisting in his gut, coiling tighter and tighter – and then Levi is cupping his balls, rolling them in his palms, and the sensation coupled with the white hot pressure around his cock is enough to tip him over the edge, emptying into Levi’s mouth, thick burst after thick burst. Levi takes all of it, swallowing each and every drop, and Eren’s body is sagging, elbows to the wall. Slipping, in every sense of the word. 

Levi taps Eren’s ass, and Eren carefully steps off the hay bale, but not careful enough to stop his trembling legs from giving way the second he’s touching the floor.

“You okay?” Levi asks, and despite the stinging in his eyes, Eren nods. 

Reality sets in, fast – leaves this bitter taste on Eren’s tongue, has him reeling from the unfairness of it all. 

“I’m fine, Levi. Let’s get cleaned up.” 

_Another life_ , thinks Eren. _Just not this one._

*

The first thing that Levi reassured him of was that it didn’t change anything. 

_“I’m still going to kill you, Eren.”_

_“I still want you to.”_

That’s… a bit of a half-truth, these days. The thought of Levi alone is enough to keep Eren awake at night. Mostly he watches Levi sleep until dawn rolls in, and then he’s up, gathering whatever supplies they might need for the coming days. It’s a joyless existence, but a necessary one. That, he is sure of. 

As Levi grows in strength, the atmosphere grows in tension. Eren crafts Levi a staff, so that he can walk around without needing him to lean on. Eren is both overjoyed and sickened at the thought. 

The first time Levi is well enough to use it, Eren is outside by the stream, bathing their clothes in the water. He leans against the shack, watches Eren with this strange look on his face. 

“Summer is coming,” observes Eren, uselessly. He wrings out Levi’s cloak, sets it over the rocky bank to dry. 

Levi says nothing. 

*

Levi has been complaining about needing to shave for two weeks now. (“We might be living in a post apocalyptic wasteland but that doesn’t mean I have to look like a scavenger.”) It’s been almost four months since they’ve been holed up in their little shack, and Eren had to admit, it’s pretty obvious. Not that he’s particularly bothered, but Levi always did take more pride in his appearance, and that doesn’t seem to have subsided in the Armageddon. Eren manages to source some honey from a beehive hanging on one of the evergreens by the stream, (suffers the wrath of at least six different angry bees to steal it) and dilutes it with water to create some sort of paste. 

Brandishes it proudly to Levi, the stings on his arms red and swollen. 

“Did you fight a beehive?” 

“So that you could shave, yes.”

Levi shrugs. “I’m not seeing the correlation.”

Eren huffs, sets the paste to one side. Rummages through his belongings until he finds his knife. 

“Here, sit.” 

Levi moves to sit cross legged by the side of Eren’s hay bale, and Eren looms above him, dipping his fingers into the golden paste. 

“You are not about to put that on my face.”

“Shut up and be grateful. This is the best I could come up with.” 

He coats Levi’s jaw with the stuff, and then gets to work, gliding the edge of the blade up and over Levi’s throat.

“I don’t trust you with that thing,” Levi snipes, and Eren grins.

“I’ve been using blades since I was a kid. I was a scout for a long time, you know.” 

“Yeah, and you never were any good at it.” 

“Hey.” Eren playfully taps his cheek with the blade. “Can’t all be humanity’s strongest, can we?”

At that, Levi instinctively clenches and unclenches his bad hand in his lap. Eren pretends not to notice, but Levi stretches his arm out in front of them, displaying the scarred flesh for Eren to see. He doesn’t say anything, and Eren resists the overwhelming urge to wrap his arms around his shoulders, hold him close until the moment passed. 

Instead, he swallows hard, fucking hates that Levi has this distorted image of himself.

“You’re _still_ humanity’s strongest, Captain.”

For a second he’s sure Levi’s going to make some comment about how _“well that’s not a difficult feat now, is it, there’s no one fucking left,”_ but instead he makes this weird noise, like a half laugh caught somewhere in his throat. The atmosphere shifts almost instantly, and Eren swears he can feel his shoulders relax.

“Eren, you never were any good at lying, and I exhausted all of my ability to pretend to believe the shit you come out with when you were a scout.”

This feels like companionship, Eren thinks, and bites back a laugh, remembers that this fractured utopia of theirs has an expiry date. Tries not to dwell on that thought too much, instead concentrates on guiding the blade across Levi’s skin. 

When he is finished, and once Eren has wiped the excess from his face, Levi admires Eren’s handiwork, running his hand along the underside of his jaw.

“Not bad, for a brat.” 

“I’m more than just a pretty face,” chimes Eren. Levi is struggling to his feet, and Eren moves to help him, but Levi holds out his hand. 

“It’s fine, I’ve got it.” With difficulty, he stands, and then sets himself on the bed next to Eren.

“Sit down. I can’t bear to look at that hairy face anymore. You look homeless.”

“We can keep the paste for next time –,”

“I said sit down.”

Eren does as he’s told, positioning himself between Levi’s legs, tipping his head back to give Levi easy access. Levi’s hands are much smaller than his own, but he is incredibly deft with them, moving across Eren’s skin as though he were well versed in male grooming. 

Eren’s had his eyes closed the whole time, but after a few drawn out seconds of feeling nothing, he opens one. 

“Levi?”

At the lack of response, he opens the other. 

The man is perfectly still, eyes fixated on the curve of Eren’s neck, the blade resting lightly across his throat. He looks vacant, as though he were staring straight through him. 

“Levi…?” he asks again, quieter. 

Something akin to a calmness passes over Levi’s face. The life comes back to his eyes, and all of a sudden Eren is aware of the blade pressing into his skin, barely enough to draw blood.

Eren blinks at him, but otherwise doesn’t move, not an inch.

“There’s no point in hesitating. If you’re going to do it, then do it.”

An eerie quiet has come to settle over them, each of their voices barely above a whisper. 

“I could,” Levi finally breathes. 

Eren lifts his shoulders in a minute, barely there shrug.

“You _could_ have killed me weeks ago. Why haven’t you?”

It’s the conversation that’s been brewing for a while now, but it feels surreal to be finally having it – and this time Levi blinks, blindsided by the question. 

“Couldn’t kill you then. Still needed you. Why would I kill someone who I still needed?”

It seems like an odd thing for someone to say who has no intention of continuing living once he’s gone. Eren decides to take the bait though, hissing as the blade breaks his skin. 

“Well, what about now then?” His teeth slide together, it stings, and he can tell the squeaking makes Levi uncomfortable.

The soldier worries his bottom lip with his teeth. If he weren’t holding a knife to Eren’s throat, it might be sexy. 

“No.” He leans back, and Eren breathes a sigh of relief as Levi sets the blade aside. “I still need you, for now.” He nudges Eren’s back with his foot. “You’re done. Wipe your face.” 

The cloth lands with a wet flop against Eren’s leg, but Eren just watches, stunned, as Levi grabs the staff and makes his way outside. It’s a little comical, the way he moves, but Eren doesn’t laugh – just watches as he disappears, leaving Eren sat on the floor, the moisture from the cloth gradually seeping into his trousers and leaving a weird residue that Eren would have to try and scrub out later. 

Oddly enough, the exchange leaves a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he smiles down at the cloth, finally using the thing to wipe the honey from his face.

*

It’s been five months since Eren rescued Levi. His ribs still cause him a lot of pain, and on occasion he curses Eren for his shoddy doctoring. Doesn’t mean it, of course, although on the days that Eren watches Levi struggle to move, it makes him wish Hanji had found him instead. She’d have done a much better job. 

He can’t get around the same way he used to. He’s not quick, anymore, no longer agile – but, like he’d told Eren, “you have to pay the price somehow. Can’t expect to live the lives we did and get off scot free.” Eren had wanted to protest and ask what his price was – but the sheer idiocy of the question has him derailing that train of thought as quickly as it had surfaced. 

They both know he’ll never be the same, but in honesty, neither had expected to still be alive for it to matter. 

Eren has started keeping tabs. A marking on the wall beside his bed for every day that Levi doesn’t kill him. Levi either hasn’t noticed or chooses not to ask. 

It’s mid August, now, and the sun is unforgiving, daylight stretching on for hours and making it almost impossible for Eren to leave for supplies. They know they’re spread thin, at this point, that the surrounding areas have been almost stripped bare. Eren tells Levi that soon, they’ll have to start looking further afield, and it meant finding somewhere else to stay. It’s a worrying thought; Eren knows it won’t be that easy for Levi. 

“I still have the sled, if it’s too difficult for you,” Eren tells him one evening, when the sun has finally disappeared behind the horizon and they are able to sit by the stream. They are descaling fish, and Eren looks up from his work to see Levi glaring. 

“You’re not pulling me on that ever again. It was a one time thing.”

Eren huffs. “Don’t be so petulant.” 

Levi cocks an amused eyebrow. The patronising tone is very familiar, and he knows full well where Eren learned it.

“When did you get so old?” he snipes, chucking a fully descaled fish into the bucket. 

Eren doesn’t answer, but Levi can see him grinning. The moon is out in all her majesty, now, bathing the two of them in an opulent, silvery glow – and Levi breathes a huge sigh, watches Eren’s hands move for a full minute before he picks up another fish. 

He knows if he was ever going to follow through with his promise that he should have done it the first chance he had. Every day that passes feels underserved, like they were taking something that didn’t belong to them – and Levi realises that what they had stolen was the gift of time. 

It can’t ever be returned, and so – selfishly – he hoards it, not wishing to part with a single minute.

Promises that they’ll pay their price, some day. 

  
  


Any day now.


End file.
